


all i've ever wanted

by mypetersburg



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, F/M, Ian Gallagher and Mandy Milkovich are Best Friends, Not dialogue heavy, POV Mandy Milkovich, canon abuse mention, canon rape mention, mandy milkovich deserves more love, this is darker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mypetersburg/pseuds/mypetersburg
Summary: Mandy hadn’t really understood then what it meant to be unwanted, but she knew it started with being a Milkovich. Maybe it ended with being her.OR- A study of Mandy Milkovich and her experiences with men, because her life has not been quite fair.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mandy Milkovich, Kenyatta/Mandy Milkovich, Lip Gallagher/Mandy Milkovich
Kudos: 21





	all i've ever wanted

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, all! I hope you checked the warnings above. If not, I'll reiterate them here:
> 
> There is mention of Terry raping Mandy, and mention of Kenyatta abusing Mandy. Both of these things are canonical, so I'm sorry if I spoiled them, but it's really important to be that you know they're in here.
> 
> Other than that, there's no other necessary warnings. If you want to skip these sections, you can skip the past the section that starts with "Life wasn't all sunshine and Ian Gallagher..." (Terry part), and the fairly large chunk that begins with "The first time Kenyatta hit her..."
> 
> Thank you!

Sometimes, when Mandy’s deep in a moment of self-loathing, she thinks she could make an interesting character study.

Never wanted for the right reasons, always falling for the same guy who will hurt her in some way- fists or words or heartless actions, it’s all the same. Always being treated poorly by men. Her father, boys at school. Sharp words from her brothers, sharp slaps from her boyfriends, near-death experiences with her clients.

Mandy’s not naïve enough to think she’s _actually_ interesting, or to think she’s some damsel. She’s Mandy Milkovich: her whole life, she hasn’t been worth a lot. She plays this confident air, but she’s tired. She’s small. Sometimes, she feels defenseless, even though she’s far, far from it.

She’s…well. She’s _something_ , and every sickening twist of her stomach tells her that she’s something that men just _love_ to exploit.

\---

If she reaches back in her memory enough, Mandy can remember the first time a man- a _boy_ \- made her feel like garbage, like something worthless, like something to be played with and then tossed away in a dark corner.

She was ten, and had just worked out that her body could _get_ her something. The creepy guy who always watched her pass the corner store had led her to figure it out, after he had ducked inside to buy her a chocolate bar, leering at her for far too long.

Mandy has _never_ been dumb, not even as a child.

But it wasn’t the guy at the corner store who used her. (If anything, Mandy had figured out how to use him.)

No, it was a boy at school. Randy Hartley. _Randy Hartley_. Mandy didn’t really know what love felt like, but she thought that maybe she loved Randy. His dark hair, dark eyes, crooked smile like an impish elf.

Once, Mickey caught her doodling _Mandy Hartley_ all over a piece of scrap paper in the kitchen. She thought that maybe he’d laugh at her, but he hadn’t. Just blinked at the paper, given her a half-hearted noogie, and sauntered away. (Mickey’s always been the nicest, even if he tries not to be.)

So, Mandy worked up the courage to approach Randy. (Mandy and Randy. Looking back on it, the humor isn’t lost on her.)

He had been digging around in the half-frozen dirt with a stick, and Mandy thought it was dreamy. So, she did what all the pretty, older girls did. She tossed her hair, she pouted her lips, she popped out her hip.

“Randy,” she’d said, trying to act all desirable and cute. “What are you doing?”

“Busy.” He barely looked up. But, fine. She wasn’t going to let herself be dejected. She tossed her hair again, channeling Kasey Overdrove from down the street.

“With what?”

“ _Busy_.”

“Well, can I help?”

“No.” He’d snapped, then considered. Set down the stick, looked up at her slowly. There was a streak of dirt on his face, and Mandy thought that maybe he was the cutest boy she ever saw.

 _I love you_ , she thought, but didn’t say it. _I love you, Randy Hartley_.

Randy was on his feet, pulling her towards the slide. With careful contemplation, they ducked underneath it. In a moment, her back was pressed against the cool metal of the ladder, and her heart pounded. He was _so_ close to her, and she thought that maybe this was the heartsick feeling people in movies talked about when they talked about love.

“I lov-”

He kissed her. Mandy was about to tell him that she loved him, and he _kissed_ her.

She was okay with that. She was more than okay with that.

When recess ended and it was time to go in, she was still blushing.

Two days later, she let him put his hand up her coat, pressed against her waist through her shirt. She watched T.V., and she had older brothers. She knew what boys wanted, and she wasn’t _really_ ready for that, but maybe she could be for Randy.

The next day, she thought she might be ready, as Randy kissed her and her back dug against the ladder.

But then someone to her left shrieked and giggled, and Randy broke away from her as quickly as he could. Still dizzy, Mandy tried to focus, but more laughter was breaking out all around her, and she _couldn’t_.

“Randy kissed a Milkovich!” Someone cried, and Mandy hadn’t really understood then what it meant to be unwanted, but she knew it started with being a Milkovich. Maybe it ended with being her.

“No I didn’t!” Randy cried, but Mandy could still feel his lips pressed to hers.

“He kissed a Milkovich! He kissed _Mandy_!”

More laughter, and Mandy’s face kept getting hotter and hotter. She wanted to shrink into herself. She’d rather be anywhere but there.

The kids were closing in on all sides, laughing, and Mandy’s waist and ribs burned where she had let Randy press his hand. She thought of the way he looked up at her from his perch on the dirt two days ago, and wondered if maybe his eyes had raked over her body for too long. If maybe he looked at her the way the creep outside the corner store did.

The kids taunted on all sides, and Randy kept denying everything. As soon as Mandy saw a break, she ducked under a few arms and _ran_.

She kept running, all the way out of the playground, and she could swear that the kids’ laughter was getting louder, chasing her down the block. When she turned around, she was alone, running from school.

She ended up at the corner store, and the creep was outside. He smiled at her, and she was so _mortified_. If Randy didn’t want her, was she broken? Doomed to only have weirdos want her?

But Mandy looked up at the man, and she suddenly wanted chocolate. She tossed her hair, she pouted her lips, she popped out her hip.

She went home with her chocolate bar after that, but it didn’t come with the rush it usually did.

The next day, when she saw Randy at school, he didn’t look at her.

 _You were my first kiss_ , she thought, but didn’t say it. 

\---

Middle school brought bucket loads of Randy’s. She cared less then, and she let their hands wander. When they barely looked at her in the hallway, she tamped down her anger.

She reasoned with herself that she was using them, but she wasn’t. (Now, looking back on it, she knows that she was just a scared teenager, desperate for someone to love her.)

She forced herself to feel nothing when Michael Wise slipped his hand down her jeans, then shirked away from her at their lockers. When Billy Brandt wrinkled his nose at her in class, then followed her into the girls locker room.

Mandy figured that if she was getting something out of it, then it didn’t count. After Henry Greene called her family dirty, twenty minutes after making out with her by the bathroom, she held back hot tears and told herself it didn’t _matter_. She was getting something, right?

Maybe she wasn’t destined to be the shiny girl on some handsome guy’s arm. It didn’t matter. She was older now than she was at ten, and she understood things a little better. She knew she wasn’t _broken_. She just…she wasn’t what people really wanted in the light.

If she tried really, really hard, she could manage to make herself close to okay with it.

\---

In high school, the script was flipped on Mandy. Boys would sleep with her, but they didn’t really lie about it anymore. They started telling each other, which spread to people, and then Mandy got a reputation that wasn’t even _fair_. She wasn’t jumping their bones. She just wanted someone to want her, even if it was only for a few hours. She _needed_ to be wanted, because it was the only thing that kept her breathing.

Still, she figured it out. She had to be meaner, to put venom in her voice and fire in her eyes. She had to snap and bite and hit, and she had to smirk at the rumors in the hallway and wink at the boys who looked at her. It was how to keep atop everything, how to stay in some semblance of control. (Maybe she didn’t like it. Maybe it was more than a ‘maybe’.)

Still, boys wanted her. Which was why Ian Gallagher _really_ confused her.

Mandy just couldn’t make sense of him. The way he stuck up for her when Mr. Hall was being a creep must have meant something. She was so shocked by it, so shocked that someone cared enough to _defend_ her.

So she went to the Kash and Grab. She flirted with him and smiled and twirled her hair the way she was learning to, looked up into his pretty eyes and thought that maybe, just _maybe_ , she would have a real chance. She would be Ian Gallagher’s girlfriend, a guy who was nice, possibly nice enough to want her in public. Possibly nice enough to want her without making it seem like she was a prize he had won.

But he didn’t want her. As she fled the Gallagher house, hysterical and hating herself, the rejection burned red-hot in her belly. She was still crying when she got home, and Iggy shot her a look, so she lied.

She knew it was wrong. As she said it, told her group of assembled brothers than Ian Gallagher had taken advantage of her, she knew it was wrong. She just…well. She thought he _liked_ her, liked her. He stood up for her! No one had ever done that before. He was a nice guy, with pretty eyes and good hair, and he _defended_ her. He smiled at her in public, he never laughed when the other boys talked about how easy she was.

It hurt. It hurt _so_ bad that she let her brothers go after Ian, let Mickey tell Ian that he was going to kill him.

She watched Mickey shove a gun in his waistband, and she told herself that she didn’t _care_.

Except, she did. She cared a lot, and she cared even more when Ian found her, eyes frightened in the dim sunlight.

“We need to talk.” He begged, and Mandy let herself fill with rage. She knows now that she acted like a child that day. But she _was_ a child, so who could blame her?

“You’re a dead man, Ian Gallagher!” She bit, then jabbed at him hard. “Fucking _dead_!”

She started to walk away, trying to collect herself and hold in her tears.

“I’m gay!” He called, almost breathless, and it stilled her in her tracks.

 _Gay_? She paused, took one deep breath and then another.

She sort of wanted to laugh. There she was, madder than anything at the idea of being rejected, and it wasn’t even on _her_. The guy didn’t like girls! Mandy couldn’t control that.

She could control her brothers, though. She needed to call them off, and fast.

“Okay.” Mandy turned, and he regarded her with a sincere face. “Let’s go for a walk.”

_Justin Timberlake_. Mandy couldn’t stop wrinkling her nose at the thought, but it was important to her that Ian knew he could trust her.

“I won’t tell anyone.” She said, and meant it. “I just…I thought that you maybe thought that I’m, like, ugly. Or something.”

There. She said it. She got the words out there, and it didn’t feel better. She heard once that speaking feelings could help, and that was a lie. She still felt like shit.

But Ian stopped his walking, turned to her with a frown.

“Mandy.” He shook his head. “You’re beautiful. This has nothing to do with the way you look, I’m just not wired that way.”

To punctuate it, he took a step forward. Put one hand to her breast, and took her other hand and brought it- _whoa_. Mandy resisted a giggle, because it was all sort of funny.

“See?” He asked, after an adequate amount of time had passed. “Nothing.”

Mandy snorted, then laughed for the first time in a while. When Ian laughed with her, Mandy thought that _this_ might all be okay.

Mandy didn’t actually _mind_ fake-dating Ian. It was sort of nice. He held her hand, took her to the movies, laughed at her jokes. Smiled at her in public, didn’t shy away like other guys did. When someone insulted her, he snapped and glared at them until they backed off.

She didn’t mind that he wasn’t attracted to her. He was her _best friend_ , and a best friend was better than a boyfriend. Best friends didn’t expect her to look good. Best friends kicked her ass at video games with no mercy. Best friends teased her with a smile, instead of a glare.

She loved Ian. When he dropped snow down the back of her coat, when he let her dig her nails into his arms at the scary parts of movies, when he made her laugh so hard that she snorted soda out of her nose.

Ian Gallagher was good. When she was around him, she never felt the way she had before. The invisible dirt was scrubbed from her skin, and the invisible weight was pulled from her shoulders.

\---

Life wasn’t all sunshine and Ian Gallagher, though. The first time her drunk father crawled into bed with her, she fought him and tried to scream. After he had hit her and told her to keep quiet, she learned to listen.

What her father did was almost the same as what other boys did. She wanted it from the other boys, mostly, and she didn’t want it from her father, but it was nearly the same. In the dark, a hand over her mouth. After it was over, when daylight broke, she wasn’t looked at. Wrongdoings were denied, and trying to broach the topic meant only bad things coming.

And then he got her pregnant. Went raging to the Gallagher house and tried to attack Ian, but he _knew_ what he did.

When he held the gun to Ian’s head, Mandy acted fast. She threatened her father, reminded him what he knew, and made herself ready to shoot him. She could do it, she thought. If she had to.

She didn’t have to. Her father let Ian off, and when she followed him outside, she couldn’t look at him or Lip as she told them.

“He mistakes me for my mom sometimes.” She said, and shrugged off Ian’s comforting hand on her shoulder.

Later, when he tried to bring it up again, she warned him _never_ to talk about it.

That was the end of that subject.

She hated her father. She hated men. She hated her whole shitty life.

\---

Lip Gallagher might be her good thing. He was handsome and funny and _smart_ , so much smarter than anyone she knew. He smiled at her in the light of day, and when she took him by the hand, he didn’t pull away. (Except for when he did. Which wasn’t often.)

He kissed her after sex, he rubbed her shoulders as she fell asleep. When everything was too much, he let her sleep in his bed, on warm sheets and stiff pillows.  
  


Mandy wouldn’t let him waste his potential. She won’t let him act like he’s destined to his little house forever, destined to handle his siblings without a complaint. He was a _genius_ (still _is_ ), and Mandy wouldn’t let him ignore that.

He shouted at her when he found out about the colleges, and she shouted at him and reminded him how hard she worked to get those applications in. How much shit she did _just_ for him, and how it never seemed to matter. (She cried about it, but she made sure he didn’t see. She made sure no one saw.)

She loved him. She knew that, because it felt different than the way she felt for Ian but still set her on fire. She _loved_ him, loved him, and she thought maybe he would be her way.

She’d spent her whole life declaring herself forever fucked, but maybe she didn’t have to be. Maybe she could have Lip, and that would be enough.

So, she did what she could. She became the perfect girlfriend, just to keep him looking at her in public. To keep him smiling. To keep him from leaving her one day, the way everyone else already had.

Until he told her to leave. Until he snapped at her, right in front of Kevin, and told her to leave.

She left, and when she cried in her aunt’s uncomfortable chair, she tried not to think of Lip. She tried not to think of how _different_ he was.

But then he apologized to her, and Mandy made sure that he knew that she deserved better. (After they were done, and things were better, Mandy’s heart soared again. Maybe it would be okay, after all.)

And then Karen came back. Karen came back, and Mandy could _not_ handle that. She had something here, something good, and she wouldn’t let some bitchy blonde take that from her.

Mandy wasn’t dumb. She wasn’t as smart as Lip, and she was God-awful at school, but she wasn’t dumb. She knew what Lip felt for Karen. She knew he had probably fucked her just as soon as she returned.

But Mandy had learned how to act back in middle school. To protect what was hers. Before, the only thing that was hers was her herself. Now it was Lip, and Mandy protected that the only way she knew how. (The next day, she was glad she took Mickey’s advice. There _was_ hair under the hood, blonde and smeared with blood and grease. Mandy set it alight with Mickey’s lighter, and didn’t feel bad for what she had done.)

Lip didn’t want her, and he knew what she did. Mandy knew that, even after she had sex with him in the Gallagher kitchen. He didn’t _want_ her, and she couldn’t force that. (Almost every man in her life had already taught her that.)

Kenyatta was tall, and when he smiled at her across the bar, Mandy figured he was probably as good as she was going to get.

At Mickey’s wedding, she knew as soon as Lip came that it was done. She was mad, and she couldn’t even finish her argument with him, because Ian was suddenly breaking down beside her. (Her brother and Ian. Huh.) (She couldn’t deal with that right then. Other things were on her mind.) 

After Lip had taken Ian away, wrinkling his nose at the smell of vodka wafting off his brother, Mandy went back to Kenyatta.

Maybe she _was_ fucked for life. Maybe every man she had evet encountered had been right: she was nothing. Something to be loved and wanted only in the dark.

Mandy took Kenyatta by the tie, and led him off to the bathroom. She’d make him want her. She needed that.

\---

The first time Kenyatta hit her, Mandy didn’t disillusion herself. He didn’t do it because he loved her. He did it because he was mad, because he was violent, and because she was the closest punching bag.

But she stayed. She figure he was the best she would get. He was strong, and had some money, and Jesus Christ, he _wanted_ her. He hit her but he _wanted her_ , and all Mandy had every wanted was to be desired. So she stayed.

Still, she was a sucker for Lip. When he asked, Mandy went to him. She knew she would pay for it with Kenyatta later, but she didn’t care. (No one ever asked Mandy who she wanted, but if they did, she would tell them it was probably Lip.)

When she thought Ian might kill Kenyatta, a flash of hope sparked up in her stomach. She squashed it just as quickly as she could, pulled her best friend off her boyfriend and let Mickey take Ian outside to handle it. When Kenyatta towered over her next, Mandy didn’t even whimper.

At the diner, men there were just as disgusting as ever. Their hands up her skirt, on her thighs, on her back. Mandy smiled politely, collected her tip money, and kept her head down. She went home to Kenyatta at the end of the night, and she let him do what he wanted. She was just so _tired_. More tired than she had ever been.

When she saw Lip and his new girlfriend at the diner, she didn’t let herself care. It didn’t matter, she made herself believe, except it _did_.

“You can’t go to Indiana.” Ian said. Mandy didn’t bother reasoning with him. She didn’t _want_ to go to Indiana, but Kenyatta had done something to her. She shied away, now, instead of curling her lip and rising to a challenge. She thought that maybe she spoke softer. She knew she was getting thinner. She knew she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“I’m sorry.” She said. “But I’m going.”

“Mandy-”

Ian was ill. He couldn’t fake it in front of her. Maybe he could make Mickey think he was getting better, but Mandy knew the truth. He _wasn’t_. He needed therapy and medicine. Mandy wished she could do it, could make him her smiling best friend again, but she couldn’t. (What could she do, anyway? Was she good at _anything_?)

“I’m sorry.” She repeated firmly. Ian glared at her, and she bit back tears as she reached up to cup his cheek. “I love you.”

“Don’t go.”

“I love you, Ian.” She said again. “Thank you. I don’t know who I’d be without you.”

Sadder. She’d be a hell of a lot sadder without him. Considering how sad she was then, she didn’t want to dwell on what being sadder could look like.

The same words to Lip a few days later yielded a different outcome.

“I love you.” She was crying, and Lip was holding her by the hips, warm hands and rough fingers. He didn’t say a word, and Mandy made up her mind. She thought maybe she could stay if Lip wanted her to, but he didn’t. So she’d go.

Maybe Kenyatta would be okay in a different environment.

Still, she let herself cry as she fell asleep beside Lip. She mourned everything about her shitty life. She inwardly cursed Randy Hartley, the creep at the corner store, every boy in middle and high school. She wished her father would go to hell and burn alive. She cried, and when her shoulders shook, Lip didn’t notice. He was already asleep.

\---

After she left Kenyatta, Mandy didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know _anything_.

Her whole life, she had used her body like a weapon. It got her what she wanted, even if what she wanted was never _truly_ what she wanted. It got her momentary satisfaction. It _was_ a weapon. She knew that.

Lip had his smarts, Mickey had his guns, Ian had his cunning words and harsh punches. Mandy had her body.

She was good with it. So she used it.

The escort agency wasn’t actually that bad. Really. She got pretty dresses, high pay, and the guys she slept with wore condoms. She only had to deal with a few creeps, and even then, her boss looked the other way if she had to rough them up.

But when she felt the hands of her client close around her throat, Mandy acted quickly. She defended what was hers, and then she called Ian.

“Jesus, Mandy.” He’d said once he looked in the bathroom, but he still held her close and stroked her hair when she started to cry. He still let her stay with him, and she knew he was still her best friend. He was still her best thing.

“You look good.” She said that night, sitting beside him in his bed.

“I feel good.” He said, his eyes free of fog, and Mandy reached over to take his hand. She remembered a simpler time, remembered holding his hand in the hallway and laughing at his dumb joke about Conner Kallay.

“Thank you, Ian.” She squeezed. “For everything.”

“I’m glad you left Kenyatta.”

“Me too.”

“You could stay here. With me.”

“No,” she shook her head. “No, Ian. I can’t. You know that.”

She blew off his argument, and after he fell asleep beside her, she found herself awake, staring down at his face. She remembered thinking he liked her, and she smiled at the memory.

“I love you,” she whispered. She said it to him often, and she always meant it. “You’re the best friend I’ll ever have.”

In his sleep, he shifted, and Mandy settled down beside him. Ian was the only man who hadn’t done her wrong, and their friendship was like a tiny bird that she held close to her chest. When she stroked it’s feathers, it was the only thing that could make her feel safe.

The next morning, when she saw Lip in the hallway, she felt her heart flare up again.

 _No_ , she told herself. _No_. _We’re not doing_ that _anymore_.

She ducked out of the Gallagher house, and when she turned to look back, she could no longer see Lip stood in the window.

 _I love you_ , she thought, but didn’t say it. _I think I’ve always loved you, Lip Gallagher_.

\---

But Mandy doesn’t do that often. Dwell on her life. Think of herself as an interesting character study. All it does is _hurt_ , and she’s so tired of being hurt.

She still talks to Ian. She doesn’t talk to anyone from home but him, because he was really the only good thing she ever had. She doesn’t go to his wedding, and she feels a little bad, because it's her best friend and brother, but she’s not up for facing home. For facing _every_ past demon that the south side of Chicago pushed on her.

Tonight, she flops back against her couch and stares at the ceiling. She’s going to let herself stew, and she knows it.

On nights like this, she thinks of all the money in her bank account. She thinks of the way her body has never felt like _hers_. She thinks of the way she felt when Randy Hartley kissed her under the slide, like she could conquer the world.

She reaches for her phone, and books a one-way plane ticket without thinking.

“Miami.” She says, testing the weight of it on her tongue. “Hi, I’m Mandy Milkovich. I’m from _Miami_.”

Maybe she can stop stewing in Miami. Maybe she can feel like herself again.

“I’m new here.” She practices. “I’m from Chicago.”

In Miami, no one will know her. To them, she might even be a natural blonde.

She won’t be a character study there. She’ll be Mandy Milkovich, rough around the edges, hailing all the way from snowy Chicago. Maybe, in Miami, she’ll be worth something.

Or maybe she won’t be. Maybe she’ll still be the same Mandy Milkovich she’s always been. Either way, she’ll be doing it under the hot sun atop gritty sand, because she’s getting the fuck away from Chicago. Away from everyone who's ever treated her wrong, because she's never deserved _any_ of it. 

“I live in Miami now.” She rehearses, imagining salt water and less sleazy guys. “But I moved there from Chicago.”

She’s always liked the heat better, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really love Mandy, and I think her character deserved a lot better than what she was sometimes given. If you leave kudos or a comment, thank you! Stay healthy and well.


End file.
